


The New World

by as_with_a_sunbeam



Category: 19th Century CE RPF, Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: 1804, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Dark, F/M, Gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-03-02
Packaged: 2018-09-27 15:09:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10027388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/as_with_a_sunbeam/pseuds/as_with_a_sunbeam
Summary: When Eliza prayed for her husband to come back to her, this wasn't exactly what she had in mind.





	1. Chapter 1

The barricade at the door wouldn’t hold. One of the creatures was persistently pushing at it, making Eliza’s heart race with every bang against the wood. When the dead had risen, New York City had been overrun almost immediately, but out here in the country, death came slower.

She’d seen three of the unholy creatures lurching their way towards the front door an hour ago. The windows were already boarded up, the doors sealed and blocked. She’d ushered the children into an upstairs bedroom and sat guard with her husband’s old hunting rifle.

Two of the creatures had been working on the windows, but they appeared to have given up. Or perhaps had wandered around back to try somewhere else. The one at the door wouldn’t leave, though. It kept pushing, and slowly the furniture piled before the door had begun to shift.

A particularly loud bang preceded a chunk of the door flying in. A hand reached through the gap, grabbing blindly. Eliza took aim with the rifle, trying to keep her breathing steady. She’d go down fighting, buying her children as much life as possible. Just like her brave sister.

The hand reached for the door knob and its fingers grasped clumsily at the brass. Eliza held in a whimper of fear. If only Alexander were here, she thought. As the door creaked open, she tried to comfort herself with the knowledge she’d likely be with him shortly.

The creature pushed at the door again, shifting the barricading furniture enough for it to climb through. She pressed her forefinger lightly on the trigger and forced herself to wait to fire until she could properly line up the shot.

When she had the creature in her sights, she froze. A strangled mix of laugh and sob escaped her lips. Dear God, what a sick way for her prayers to be answered. The rotting, snarling creature was none other than her sainted husband, walking the earth once more, hungering for human flesh and gore. She dropped the gun. She couldn’t fire at him. Never. Not that it would do much anyway, except slow him down for an instant. He shuffled towards her, his jaw working already, salivating with hunger. She stood and stepped towards him, tears rushing down her face. At least she’d be with him when she died. That was a blessing she was sure she’d be denied after she’d buried him.

“Alexander,” she whispered. Another step and she was standing just before him. With a shuddering breath, she reached out, clasped her arms around his waist, and pressed her lips onto his. One last kiss. He tasted like copper and smelled of earth and blood.

He froze in her embrace. She looked up into his handsome, beloved face, then pressed herself against his shoulder, holding him tightly. “I love you,” she breathed into his shoulder.

She felt his lips on the crown of her head. She closed her eyes. This wasn’t so bad, she told herself. She could almost pretend her was kissing her.

She heard him sniff loudly, adjust his head, then felt his lips again, this time on her temple. Her knees were going weak with fear, her whole body trembling, but she clung on to him. His fingers rose to tangle in her hair and rub clumsily at her scalp. Why wouldn’t he just get it over with? Did these creatures always play with their food?

His other arm came around her, pulling her closer to him.

Was he embracing her?

She pulled back a little to look at him again. His eyes were dull and milky, but he seemed to be able to hold her gaze. “Alexander?” she breathed, hardly daring to hope. “Do you know me?”

He tilted his head at her quizzically, his hand still pawing at her scalp roughly.

“I’ve missed you,” she told him, though she’s not sure he understands her. “I love you so much.”

He tilted his head the other way, puzzling over the sounds, as though trying to make sense of them. She smiled tremulously at him and slowly raised her hand to lay her palm against his cheek. Despite her overwhelming fear, she wanted to touch him.

He let her stroke his cheek as he blinked at her silently.

A scraping sound came from the entry way. Another creature was crawling through the space Alexander left open, this one unknown, with half its face missing. Eliza whimpered and clutched her hand into her husband’s uniform jacket. She’d been willing to die in his arms, but she didn’t want the other creature to touch her.

To her shock, she felt him pull her against him and he turned. A menacing growl followed, his lip curling as he stared at the other creature. The creature growled back, a hand swiping out to grab at Eliza’s skirts.

Alexander pushed her aside and lunged forward. The creature back away from him. Was he protecting his meal? Or her? She still couldn’t tell. The two rolled through the foyer. Alexander ripped at the creature’s throat with his teeth. The creature shoved him away, looked at Eliza longingly through its one intact eye, then scrambled through the opening where it had entered.

Her husband huffed loudly and pushed himself up. Rotting flesh was dangling from his lips. He turned back to her, his jaw working again.

“Sweetheart?” she asked as he shuffled forward. His brow furrowed at the endearment. He couldn’t understand. He was going to tear her apart. She breathed out and tried to find acceptance once more. At least it would be him to end her. She met his eyes again. “Thank you.”

He pulled one arm across his middle as he move towards her. She wondered if the human gore disagreed with him. He’d been prone to upset stomachs when he was alive. She nearly laughed at the thought, but held it in. The fear was making her hysterical.

He stopped directly in front of her, blinking down at her again. She looked up at him, waiting. A beat of silence passed, and his head tilted once more. He made an impatient sound and moved his face closer to hers. The piece of flesh was still dangling from his lips. She reached up slowly so as not the startle him and pulled the flesh from his mouth, throwing it on the floor.

That didn’t seem to be what he wanted. He made the impatient sound again.

She looked down at the hand cradling his abdomen. When he’d felt ill, Eliza used to trail kisses along his stomach and massage his cramping muscles. She felt a rush of affection at the thought of those days, lazing in their bed and holding him close. She reached out and pressed her hand just beneath his.

“Are you in pain?” she asked, stroking his stomach with her thumb.

He pushed into her hand and placed his face close to hers again. His lips pouted slightly.

“Do you want me to kiss you?” she asked skeptically. That couldn’t be what he was doing, could it? He made the impatient sound a third time. She puckered her lips and leaned in, pressing them to her husband’s once more. She reached both her arms around him, holding him to her.

They stayed standing in the foyer, her holding him, for a long time.

Her mind raced as she pressed her face into the fabric of his military uniform. Was it possible he remembered her? Had he come home on purpose? Or did he just like that she spoke kindly and showed him physical affection? Perhaps all the creatures would pause for a time in their rampages if they were kissed and cuddled?

Either way, it didn’t seem that he was going to devour her any time soon. This presented a new challenge. She couldn’t risk letting him near the children. He might not be as tame around them as he seemed to be for her. Yet, she couldn’t turn him out. Even if she wanted to, if she rejected him, he might turn on her. And he had proven himself useful in warding off other creatures.

An empty servant’s cot was set up in the basement. Perhaps, if she kept the door locked….

She closed her eyes and wondered if she was insane.

Pulling away at last, she began speaking softly. “Sweetheart, I need to barricade the door again.” She moved to take a step towards the door and he growled, reaching out to clutch at her dress. She fought down the thrill of fear than ran through her and placed her hand over his.

“You can come with me, darling. Come on, help me seal the door,” she urged gently, squeezing at his hand as she moved slowly towards the door. His expression was vexed, but he moved with her this time.

She peeked around the opening, heart racing. No other creatures were lurking just outside. She pushed the door closed with her free hand and eyed the broken panel with some dismay. Alexander’s hand slipped from her grasp. She looked up at him and saw him studying the hole as well.

He shuffled around the furniture until he was on the other side of their piano. He pushed the piano until it covered the hole. His hands grasped at the music stand on top, pulling the metal free of the wood. He worked it between his hands until it bent, then wedged the metal between the piano and the door handle so the handle wouldn’t turn.

She smiled at him and held her arms open to him. He lurched towards her, an arm wrapping around his middle again as he came into her arms. She squeezed him tight, a niggling worry about his stomach growing. Was he ill? Injured?

“Come on, dearest. Let’s go downstairs,” she whispered to him. She’d get him settled into the servant’s quarters and then check on the children. He followed her as she lead him into the stairway and down the narrow steps.

The kitchen was lit with a single candle. She’d been preparing food for the children before Jamie had screamed that creatures were outside. She’d abandoned the bread and run up to see for herself. The loaf sat on the table, half sliced.

She tugged Alexander over to the servant’s bed and sat down. He copied her, sitting beside her. The dim light hid his pallor and rot. For a moment, staring at him, she almost forgot that he was dead.

He pulled an arm around his stomach again and curled forward a little. She rubbed at his back and cooed, “What’s wrong, my love?” She wished he could speak to her.

She tangled the fingers of her other hand into his hair, massaging his temple gently. She let it fall down the side of his face, cradling his cheek again. He turned his face into her palm, his lips puckering against her skin. A smile tugged at her lips, then fell again when she felt his tongue poke out. His teeth scraped against her palm.

He bit down.

She shrieked and yanked her hand away. He growled, but pushed himself back on the cot until he was flush against the corner. Both his hands were now wrapped around his middle and his eyes were closed tight.

He was hungry, she realized, her palm throbbing. He’d broken skin but hadn’t torn away any flesh. He was trying to overcome the urge eat her, exercising a power of will she hadn’t known the creatures possessed.

She couldn’t leave him to suffer so; to do so would mean her death.

“I’ll get you something, dearest,” she whispered.

She remembered the servant girl. She’d been wounded in the attack in New York City. The attack that had killed Angelica and John Church and left Eliza fleeing to her country estate with her children. The wound had festered. The girl had burned for days before succumbing.

Eliza had sneaked outside just yesterday and dug a shallow grave in the garden, her heart racing madly the whole time. She’d left Alex at the servant’s door with the rifle, told him to keep the door bolted shut until she did the secret knock. If a creature had wandered by, she’d have been defenseless. Nonetheless, she’d given the girl a decent Christian burial. 

Now she’d be a body snatcher.

She went to the door and pushed back the heavy bolt. She peeked her head out, wary of the other two creatures she’d seen coming towards the house with Alexander. The creatures tended to keep moving, she’d noticed, however, and when they had been unable to get inside had likely headed on to one of her neighbors homes.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped outside, pulling the door closed behind her. She tip toed to the garden, looking at the freshly turned earth with a sick feeling in her stomach. She fell to her knees and pushed the dirt aside with her bare hands. The grave was shallow; she’d been too afraid for her life to make it very deep.

The work of a few minutes revealed the girl’s body. Eliza tugged her from the grave, dragging her back towards the house. She opened the servants door. She had to swallow a scream when she saw Alexander just inside, staring at her.

She dragged the body inside and left it on the floor before bolting the door shut once again. Tears were pouring down her face as she wiped the dirt on her hands off on her apron.

“There, my darling,” she whispered, turning back to her husband. He was staring at the body, practically drooling at the sight. She laid a hand on his arm. He growled and snapped his head towards her. “Go ahead. It’s all right.”

She watched her brilliant, tender, affectionate husband drop to his knees and rip into the dead girl’s flesh like an animal. She backed away, up the narrow steps. He paid her no notice. She locked the door behind her when she made it to the main floor.

She should check on the children, she thought.

Instead, she sat with her back against the door. She placed her head on her knees and let herself weep.


	2. Chapter 2

Eliza wiped a cool rag over her husband’s brow and wondered if it was possible for human meat to go rancid like that of cattle or chickens.

 After finding the will to check on her children and warn them against leaving the room, she had returned to the basement to find the servant girl almost entirely devoured. Her husband had retreated back to his cot and watched contentedly as Eliza dragged the carcass back outside. With the horrifying task complete, she had fetched some water and cleaned the blood from Alexander’s face.

She’d also opened his sealed office for the first time in the month he’d been dead. Inside, she had found an old night shirt and some of his favorite books. After cleaning him up, she helped him change (desperately ignoring the bullet hole and the hastily stitched up incisions from his autopsy) and settled beside him on the cot to read out loud, pressed close to his side.

A peaceful hour had passed before she noticed him grabbing at his stomach again. His abdomen looked slightly distended from the feast of flesh on which he’d gorged himself. He couldn’t possibly be hungry again, Eliza thought with distress.  

He’d leaned forward suddenly and vomited up a vile combination of flesh, blood, and organs all over floor. He’d been violently ill ever since, vomiting on and off and rolling miserably on the cot. She sat at his side, cooing at him, soothing him, massaging his stomach as she always did.

And so, she was left wondering if the girl had been tainted in some way. Did he need live meat to eat? Or had he just eaten too much? 

The only positive thing about his sudden illness was that she was spared the dilemma of finding more food for him. Where else could she go? Would she need to dig up cemeteries? Lure unsuspecting visitors into her basement? Or simply lead Alexander outside and bar the doors, hoping he wouldn’t find his way back in?

She passed the long hours by reading aloud anytime he wasn’t actively vomiting. The words seemed to soothe him even if he didn’t understand them. Once she thought she saw his lips moving, but he didn’t make any noise and he didn’t look to be forming any actual words.

The thought occurred to her that she should write someone about this development. If the reason for Alexander’s sickness could be pinpointed, it might help the living mount a defense against the rest of the creatures rampaging their country. But to whom could she write? President Jefferson? She recoiled at telling her husband’s erstwhile enemy anything about a weakness of his, even now. And how could she even send such a letter?

No, she’d simply stay with him and see him well. She’d find a way to keep him fed, too, whatever it did to her conscience. “I love you,” she told him, firmly, issuing the statement like a vow as she interrupted a passage of Plutarch’s Lives. He met her eyes, and for the first time looked almost as if he understood her.

She found herself feeling slightly light headed and fatigued as time marched into the wee hours of the morning. The letters on the page began to swim, and she closed her eyes for a moment.

~*~

“Eliza?”

She sighed sleepily, pressing her face into an extraordinarily comfortable pillow. Her husband’s aftershave tickled her nostrils. She felt warm and safe for the first time in so long.

“Eliza? Wake up.”

Her brow furrowed slightly. Was that Alexander’s voice? It sounded rough and weak, barely more than a whisper, as though he were suffering from a bad cold. Had he been ill?

Reality hit her all at once. He’d been more than ill. He’d been dead for a long month.

Her eyes opened wide and she sat up, pushing away from his chest where she’d apparently fallen asleep. She shook off her strange dreams and stretched. The candle had burned down in the night so she couldn’t see her husband’s face.

“Sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” she whispered to him, rubbing a hand over his middle. “Is your stomach better this morning?”

“Somewhat.”

Eliza gasped and snatched her hand away. She strained her eyes in the darkness to see him. Had he really spoken? His voice has the same scratchy hoarse sound as what she’d thought had been her dreams. Had he truly woken her?

“Please don’t be frightened,” he said calmly. “I won’t hurt you.”

“I…I didn’t think you could speak,” she told him, fighting to return her breathing to normal.

“I couldn’t, before,” he answered simply. Before what, she wondered. “Are you well, dearest? You fell asleep quite abruptly last night. I was worried for you.”

She felt her head swimming again at this latest bizarre turn of events. She shook her head, and set about quelling her dead husband’s concern. “Fine, darling, just…exhausted, I suppose.”

“Would you like to lay beside me a while longer?” he offered, scooting back on the cot. His words were sweet as honey to her ear, but she found herself leaning away.

She thought about lighting a candle again. It might help to see his face. For all that she’d wished he could speak last night, she couldn’t shake the sudden feeling that she was alone in the dark with a dangerous predator. Was he salivating with hunger again? Would he lure her to him and devour her as he had that girl’s body?

“Are you afraid of me, Betsey?” He sounded hurt. “I’m sorry about biting you yesterday. I was…not myself. I assure you I’m feeling quite restored to my senses.”

She still felt wary, but it was off-set by a little flutter of hope. Would this happen with all the creatures? Was the sickness the body’s way of purging the unholy urge to consume human flesh? Would they all be restored to themselves?

She took a breath to settle her nerves and crawled forward in the dark to rest beside him on the cot. She stretched her arm around his torso and pulled him close. Perhaps, she thought, her prayers had been answered after all.

~*~

When she woke again, it was to the sound of a rifle firing.

She sat up and realized with confusion that she was in her bed, not the cot downstairs. Had it all been a dream? A dark, terrifying dream? Someone was shouting. Her eldest son’s voice was demanding someone leave immediately. She pulled herself from the bed and hurried into the hall.

Alex had his father cornered at the far end of the hall, holding the smoking hunting rifle. Her husband looked better to her eyes than he had yesterday, though he was holding a hand to his chest. Had her son really fired?

“Alex,” she whispered.

“Stay back, Mama. You don’t need to see this,” her son demanded.

She ignored him and padded down the hall to her husband’s side.

“Did you carry me upstairs?” she asked as she peeled his hand away from his chest to inspect the damage. The bullet had hit him in the sternum, but there was no blood. She met his eyes, much clearer now, no longer dull and milky as they had been yesterday.

He smiled weakly at her. “I thought you’d be more comfortable.”

“Mama, get away from it,” Alex demanded once more, voice panicky.

“Oh, for goodness sake, Alex, calm down. It’s all right, it’s only Papa. He won’t hurt us,” she assured him.

“It tried to bite me!” Alex exclaimed, his voice high. “It bit the others. That…that creature isn’t Papa. Not anymore.”

Eliza stepped back, fear growing again. Had he really attacked their children?

Alexander shook his head sharply. “I didn’t hurt them, Eliza. I promise. I’d never hurt our babies. You know that.”

She worried her lip, wanting to believe. She was still tense beside him, though, still feeling the instinctual desire to flee a predator when he moved.

“It did something to you, too, Mama. You look pale,” Alex added, ignoring his father’s assurance, face stark with worry.

“Alex,” Alexander started, taking a step towards their son.

Alex fired another round into his father. Alexander hissed in agony, sinking down to the floor as he clutched at the new wound, in precisely the same location as the fatal shot fired by Burr last month.

“Stop it!” A little voice called from the boy’s bedroom. William stepped into the hall, crying openly. “Stop hurting Papa!”

“It’s not Papa,” Alex insisted again, though he looked shaken.

Alexander pushed himself up against the wall and looked at their six year old. He pressed his forefinger to his lips in a shushing motion and winked. The gesture was supposed to be comforting she was sure, although his smile gave her a chill.

Eliza shooed the boy back into the room, away from the fighting and gun fire.  

“Eliza, could you give us a moment?” Alexander requested, still with his back flush against the wall. She didn’t want to, even with her eldest armed and more than willing to shoot. “Please,” he added when she made no move to comply. “I need a moment alone with our boy.”

“Go back into the room, Mama,” Alex demanded again. “You don’t want to watch this.”

Requested to leave by both parties, she finally relented and shut herself back in the room, listening at the door. The gun didn’t fire again. After a few moments, she heard someone hiss with pain. She flung the door aside, surprised to find her eldest held tight in her husband’s embrace.

“Everything’s all right now, Eliza.” Alexander assured her, cradling their boy’s head against his shoulder. "Everything is going to be just fine."


	3. Chapter 3

Eliza felt horribly ill. Her whole body felt like it was burning. The only escape from the heat came when her husband held a damp cloth to her head. He tended her diligently while she shook and burned, giving her water to sip and helping her change when she vomited down her front.

He told her the children were ill as well, but that she shouldn’t worry. He was caring for them all. Everything would be all right. She let his voice soothe her. With every hour that passed he looked less a corpse and more her dashing Colonel. The fear and unease faded to nothingness.

Days passed in a blur until finally one morning she awoke foggy headed but no longer sick. Alexander smiled beautifully at her, glowing in the sunlight. An angel restored to her side.

“I’m so glad you’re well, my love,” he whispered, nuzzling her with his nose. “We’re to have some visitors today. I think you’ll be pleased.”

He helped her downstairs later that morning and settled her on the sofa in their parlor. He’d taken down the barricade from the door, she’d noticed with panic, but he’d smiled again and assured her everything was fine. “Nothing will harm you now, my dearest Betsey. Don’t worry.”

When a knock sounded at the door, Alexander grinned and sprang to answer it. Three visitors poured into the parlor, and Eliza felt her throat closing up from tears at the sight. Angelica, John and Philip. Her Philip. Her baby boy, alive, handsome, and whole once more.

Dear Lord, it had really been a second coming. A blessing disguised at first as tragedy.  

She and Alexander held their child between them, kissing and holding him with frantic glee. She’d let go with one arm only to embrace her favorite sister and her brother. When the two sacrificed themselves so that Eliza could escape with the children, she’d nearly collapsed with grief. Only the desperate need to ensure her children’s safety had kept her afloat. But they were here, now, returned to her just as her husband and son now were.

“How are the children?” Angelica asked when they’d all settled down.

Eliza was still holding her boy to her, not certain she’d ever be able to let go.

“Recovering nicely. I should think they’ll be up and about by tonight, tomorrow at the latest,” Alexander answered.

Angelica sighed with happiness, leaning into her husband.

Their moment of serene calm was shattered suddenly when a frantic banging sounded at the door. Someone outside was squealing and speaking in gibberish. To Eliza, it sounded like a pig cornered at the slaughter.

She looked to Alexander, though his gaze was fixed on Angelica. They seemed to have shared something silently between them, because Alexander nodded.

“You should get that, Betsey,” her husband said calmly.

“Me?” she repeated. Whoever it was surely had an emergency. Her husband seemed the natural choice to answer the door.

“Yes. Let whoever it is inside,” Alexander directed.

She slid her hands away from Philip for the first time and went to the foyer. The shrieking and squealing was still loud as ever. She opened the door and a man stumbled inside without looking at her, babbling incoherently and gesturing frantically at the door.

Eliza looked out and saw two of their neighbors walking along the driveway. Certainly not a scene to cause frenzied panic, to her mind. She shut the door anyway, as the strange man surely wanted.

“How can we help you, sir?” she asked, turning back to their guest.

The man’s eyes widened in horror as he looked at her. The squealing started again as he stumbled back into the parlor. Her husband was standing in the doorway, blocking him from getting too far.

Eliza felt curiously disconnected from his fear. In fact, looking at his rosy cheeks and plump stomach, she was reminded of a pig again, and wondered when she’d last eaten. Her appetite was fully restored from her illness suddenly, and she felt ravenous.

“Would you shut that thing up? It’s making a horrible racket,” Angelica called from the parlor.

Alexander complied by taking the man’s head in his hands and turning swiftly, expertly snapping his neck. A day ago, Eliza might have fainted from horror.

“There, my darling,” he whispered as he laid the man on the floor before her. “Go on. It’s all right.”

The words echoed in her mind from days before when she’d presented him with the dead servant girl. Her confusion faded as instinct surged through her. She knelt on the floor beside the fresh kill. Sniffing around his face, she settled on his throat as the ideal location. She sank her teeth into the warm neck and tore away a big juicy bite of flesh. The blood lapped over her tongue, so sweet and still hot. She’d never tasted anything so succulent.

Only when she’d thoroughly cleaned the corpse of its flesh did she look up to find her husband smiling down at her.

“Good?” he asked, smirking.

She looked down at the carcass and furrowed her brows. “What’s happened to me?” she asked.

“I bit you,” he answered. “I’m sorry. It may have been wrong to change you when I couldn’t explain. I just…I so wanted my family together and whole.”

“You…changed me?” she repeated slowly, the realization coming over her. Was she one of those creatures now? But they’d been horrible, rotting, mindless things. She didn’t feel like that. Her sister, her husband, her son….

“You. And the children. We can all be together now, Eliza.”

“You bit them, too,” she stated, remembering Alex’s charge.

“I did,” he admitted, looking sheepish. “Just a little nip. Like an inoculation. A little prick of pain to keep them happy and healthy forever.”

“Forever,” she repeated. The word tasted sweet on her tongue. All of them. No more death, no more grief. She felt a smile pull at her lips and she stood, stepping over the corpse to embrace her husband. “Yes. We’ll all be together.”

“You’ll need to eat at least once a day,” Angelica explained, coming to stand at their side. “Not that it should give you much trouble. The humans are marvelously stupid.”

“Never eat the flesh of someone who’s already been bitten, though,” Philip added. “It’ll make you terribly sick.”

“That’s what was wrong with me that first night,” Alexander explained. “That girl was probably due to rise any minute when I finished her off.”

Eliza squeezed her husband firmly. She hardly dared to believe she’d live happily with her husband and their children, free of the misery that had infected her world the past few years. No more grief. No more loneliness. Just her family in their home, happy.

“Well, mostly at home,” Alexander said with a smirk when she voiced the thought aloud. “I did have an urge to visit the capital soon. See how President Jefferson is getting along.”

Eliza chuckled. After he’d died, everyone had told her what a shame it was he had never had the chance to President. Perhaps now, he’d have the opportunity. Certainly Jefferson could not compete with him anymore.

“You would come, of course,” he added. “The world is changing again. The revolution is just beginning, my dearest. Will you fight it by my side?”

She grinned. Was there anywhere else she’d rather be?

 

**Epilogue**

“Mr. President? You should come look at this,” James Madison called from his seat by the window in the upstairs of the Executive Mansion. The upper floor had become the safest place in the city by pulling up the ladder, as the staircase had not yet been completed. Madison, along with the rest of the cabinet and a few armed guards, had been stuck there for days.

Jefferson growled in frustration as he pushed away from his desk. This made no sense. The creatures were basically thoughtless animals. How could they know to congregate around the most important buildings in America? “What now?”

Jemmy held out a shaking hand. “Look, sir.”

Jefferson looked out the window. Masses of creatures were wandering aimlessly, their numbers stretching all the way between the Executive Mansion and Congress, as far as the eye could see. Men, women, children, all in various states of decay. Using Jemmy’s shaking finger as a guide, he spotted one of the creatures mounted on a horse. Squinting, he realized with dismay that it was President Washington, terribly decayed after five long years of death.

And then, behind Washington, he saw Alexander Hamilton. Hamilton was more easily recognizable, having died only a month or so ago, although the rot was starting to show on him as well. He had his wife and Angelica Church at his side, Jefferson noted with a pang. He hadn’t realized either of the two women had perished. As though sensing his gaze, Hamilton’s milky eyes turned upwards, meeting his own. To Jefferson’s utter horror, he saw Hamilton’s mouth turn up in a predatory smile.

Jefferson backed away from the window.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not entirely sure where this came from, but I hope you enjoyed it. Feedback welcome!


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